


Ryan, the Littlest Loneliest Skeleton

by cest_what



Series: Skeleton-verse [1]
Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, First Meetings, Gen, Ghosts, Inventors, Kid Fic, Skeletons, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-09
Updated: 2010-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-08 19:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cest_what/pseuds/cest_what
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan wouldn't mind being a skeleton if he weren't so alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ryan, the Littlest Loneliest Skeleton

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to [LJ](http://cest-what.livejournal.com/20116.html) February 2009.

Ryan had been living in the big old empty house for as long as he could remember. It wasn't so bad. There were cobwebs up in all the ceilings and in all the corners, and some of the floors were a bit rotted and dangerous, maybe, but it wasn't as though Ryan could really get hurt. Sometimes he lost his foot for a bit, if he forgot where he was going and put it through a floorboard, but he always got it back again.

Occasionally there were noises in the house, like whispers or footsteps, from the wind or from mice. Ryan liked to pretend that meant there were other people living there.

He only really got startled when he walked into the bathroom or the mouldy master bedroom with the full-length mirror, and he got a glimpse of his own reflection, low down in the glass because he wasn't very tall. His bones always looked white white white, and his eye sockets were too staring; it made him jump. Then it made him tug the rim of his brown felt Derby down further and push his hands into his pockets, his fingers curled up so that the bones clicked together.

He didn't _mind_ being a skeleton. Even a little one.

It was just a bit lonely sometimes.

*

The big front doors pushed open with a crash that Ryan heard from all the way up in the attic.

The front doors _never_ opened. Ryan froze for a moment, his hands tangled up in the pea-green scarf he'd found in the old chest in the corner. Then the crash was followed by a boy's voice calling _"Awesome!"_, and Ryan had to dash over to the ladder. He was awkward on the ladder, he was _always_ awkward on the ladder, and he ended up stumbling off at the bottom and making his knee joint come apart. He stopped to reattach it, tugging impatiently at his trouser leg. He didn't quite do it properly, maybe, and when he stood up again his leg was a bit wobbly and strange, but he didn't _care_.

He crept down the main staircase, keeping in the shadow of the banister.

From halfway down the staircase you could see all down to the entrance hall, wide and dusty with old grandeur. It hadn't always been so big, Ryan thought, before some of the ceilings came away and the railing on the landing got lost so that it was just a big ledge looking out over the drop. Ryan sometimes sat there and swung his legs over the gap, but he was nervous about falling off and spending days collecting all his bones up, so he only did it when he was feeling reckless.

There was a boy in the entrance hall. It was a bit hard to judge from above, but Ryan thought he wasn't any taller than Ryan was, probably. He was a _real_ boy, though. He looked about ten or eleven years old, and he had the most enormous grin Ryan had ever seen in his life.

Ryan crept lower, fascinated.

The boy was dragging a cart of some kind behind him, bearing a humped shape under a blanket. He was staring around, his eyes bright behind square glasses. "Awesome," he said again, more quietly. "Perfect." And then, letting go of the cord to the cart and spinning around, "Is anybody here?" His voice echoed all around, as though he'd filled the house with people instead of just being one person. Ryan put a hand over his mouth and stared and stared.

The boy left the cart in the middle of the floor and set off towards a corner of the room, leaving footprints in the dust. Ryan hadn't left any footprints down there in ages; they were all dusted over. He didn't go down there much. There wasn't anything there.

The boy obviously thought there was _plenty_ there. He peered at the cobwebs in the corners and he laughed at the spiders and he found the old ornate coat rack and stood it up again and walked all around it, and he pushed open all the doors leading off the hall, but he always came back again. Eventually he started towards the bottom of the curving staircase.

Ryan couldn't decide what to do. He took a step back, and then hovered and took a step down again. He wanted to keep still so that the boy didn't see him, and he wanted to wave his arm so the boy couldn't miss seeing him. He pushed his hand flat against his mouth, harder than before.

The boy was halfway up the stairs before he noticed Ryan. His eyes widened and he gave a yell, stumbling back three steps. Ryan leaned forward, afraid he was going to fall all the way down. The boy caught his hand on the banister and hung, suspended for a second with his feet tip-toeing on the edge of a step, and then he got his feet properly back on the steps. He stared up at Ryan, his eyes huge. Ryan stared back.

"Don't hurt me," the boy whispered after a second. Ryan flinched back, and that was the moment that the ghost rushed in front of him.

Ryan gave his own cut-off yelp, falling backwards onto his butt on the step above. His knee clattered apart again, and Ryan only just managed to grab his leg as it started to tumble over the side of the staircase. He cradled it in his lap, pushing his hand over his mouth again.

The ghost was staring down the flesh-and-blood boy, his fists clenched. He was a boy too – Ryan could see that even from the back. He was silver-blue and wispy, though, and his boots kept going insubstantial and trailing off, before they came real again. He wasn't actually standing on the step; he was just above it. He put his clenched fists on his hips and lifted his chin.

"Don't scare him," the ghost said, his voice fierce.

The flesh-and-blood boy's eyes were like saucers behind his glasses, and he was holding one hand pressed against his chest. His gaze flickered between the ghost and Ryan. Then, slowly, his hand dropped from his chest and his expression began to be excited. "Wow," he whispered. "You're _amazing_." Ryan blinked a few times, and then, not taking his eyes from the ghost and the boy, carefully reached down, pulling up his trouser leg to attach his shin again. He stood up, edging around to the side against the wall so that he could see the ghost's face as well as the boy's. The ghost shot him a look and made as though to move in front of him again, and Ryan lifted his chin.

The boy went up onto his toes, bouncing a bit. "Can I – my name's Brendon!" He stuck his hand out.

The ghost crossed his transparent silvery arms, scowling.

Ryan glanced at him, then shyly put his hand out to Brendon the flesh-and-blood boy. "My name's Ryan," he said.

The boy bounced again, taking his hand. "Wow," he said, staring at Ryan's finger bones in his palm. "You're all – wow." He looked up, his grin huge and excited again.

Brendon thrust his hand at the ghost. The ghost glared harder.

"I don't ... think ... he can shake your hand," Ryan said. He'd never met a ghost before, but he didn't think they could do that.

The ghost's shoulders tensed. "I wouldn't _want_ to," he said. "You don't belong here. This is mine and Ryan's place."

Ryan stared at him. The ghost blushed, a silver stain across his cheeks.

"I never knew you were _here_," Ryan blurted out.

The ghost shrugged, his arms still crossed tight. He sneaked a glance at Ryan. "I'm Spencer," he mumbled. Then he glared at Brendon again and added, still talking to Ryan, "And I've been here _much_ longer than him."

Brendon was looking back and forth between the two of them. His eyes looked very large and very earnest. "No, no," he said. He waved his hands. "It'll be really great! I'm really fun, I promise! I have – look, I have this –" He started scrambling back down the stairs, twisting back to talk to them all the way. "It's awesome! It's my invention. That's why I came here, I'm going to finish it and test it out here, if – if you'll let me. It's –"

He reached the bottom of the stairs and dashed across the floor, pulling the blanket off the shape on the cart he'd left there. Spencer drifted down the stairs, still flat-mouthed and suspicious, and Ryan followed him. Ryan's leg was still put on wonky, and it made him walk with an awkward clacking limp.

Brendon looked up as they reached him, his face hopeful. Ryan pushed the brim of his hat back so that he could look at the invention properly. It was about a foot tall, with two levers on one side and a lot of gears on the other. There was a glass clock face built into it in the middle, connected to a row of test tubes filled with gently hissing liquid.

Brendon looked down at the invention and twisted his hands a bit. "You guys could ... you could help me with it. Maybe," he said. He looked up at them.

Ryan felt overwhelmed. He looked at Spencer.

Spencer pressed his mouth closed. He looked at Ryan, and the twist of his mouth turned unhappy. Then he looked at Brendon. "I guess," he said, still sounding unhappy. "If you're not too noisy."

Brendon gave a whoop, and Ryan thought, smiling wide like he hadn't been sure that he could, that Brendon was going to be too noisy _all the time_.

Spencer crossed his arms again and looked resigned.

*

Later, when Brendon had gone, Ryan and Spencer looked at each other at the bottom of the stairs. Spencer shuffled his boots, silent against the floor they didn't touch.

"Why did –" Ryan broke off. He looked up at the ceiling, then back at Spencer to find Spencer darting a look at him. Spencer immediately looked away again, blushing silver once more.

Ryan felt a little bit more confident. "Why didn't I ever know you were here?" he asked.

Spencer shrugged. "You're –" he said. And then, "I wasn't sure if –" He made a frustrated sound, looking away.

Ryan smiled again, wider and wider. He sat down on the bottom step and lifted his trouser leg again, carefully finding the join where he'd put his knee on wrong. "You were _shy_," he said, not bothering to keep the delight out of his voice. He looked up at Spencer to find him blushing harder.

"Shut up," Spencer said. And then, "Oh my god, you're doing it wrong again." He knelt down, his knees going through the floorboards a bit. "Here, you need to turn it ... like this a bit. See? Like that."

Ryan nodded. "Thank you," he said gravely.

*

Brendon came every day. He always tinkered with his invention for an hour first, bossily demanding help and opinions from Ryan and Spencer where they sat together on the bottom step. Then they would explore the house together, or Brendon would tell them stories about life outside (it didn't sound that interesting to Ryan), or they would hold races up and down the stairs and through the hall (Ryan always had to have a head start, and Spencer always won).

Ryan was fascinated by Brendon's invention, and Spencer was a bit too, although he pretended not to be at first. Ryan didn't think even Brendon knew what it was for. At least, it seemed to be for something different every week. The first time Ryan asked, Brendon glanced at Spencer and said, his tone very offhand, that it was intended to make ghosts solid for an hour so they could touch things if they wanted to.

Ryan was pretty sure it hadn't been for that before Brendon met Spencer.

It was for something different next time Ryan asked, anyway.

*

Usually Brendon went home, dragging his feet, before it got dark, but there was one night when he got too caught up in his work to leave. He hadn't even stopped to mess around with Ryan and Spencer like he normally did, that day. He had his tongue caught between his teeth and he was carefully adding an array of tiny mirrors that reflected off each other and directed a beam of light onto one of the test tubes.

"It's going to let people levitate," he said distractedly when Spencer finally asked him. Then he looked up and grinned, his face bright, and Spencer rolled his eyes and then smiled to himself when he thought nobody was looking.

Ryan kicked him and laughed when he made a face.

Ryan had got bored with watching Brendon tinker after a while, so he'd dragged down the mirror from the bathroom and he'd been trying out the effect of different scarves and hats he'd found in the attic. The blood-red scarf with the top hat made him look cool but creepy, even though the hat was a bit too big for him. Ryan still liked the pea-green scarf best.

It was getting too dark to see now, though, and that was when Ryan realised that Brendon would normally have gone home by now. He looked up at the high glassless window above the staircase to see the sky darkening into dusk. He thought he could just see the edge of an early moon. "Hey," he said, looking at Brendon, "Don't you have to –"

Then the big double doors banged open and a boy rushed through, his hair wild and his chest heaving. He leaned on the doors, shutting them. Then he saw the three of them. "Oh, shit," he said.

He was barefoot, and his trousers were cut raggedly off at the knee. He had sleepy brown eyes, but there was tension in his shoulders.

Brendon got to his feet.

The new boy glanced up at the window, where the moon was beginning to coast into view. He looked back at Ryan and Spencer and Brendon, biting his lip. "I promise I won't hurt you," he said quickly. Then he stepped forward into the dim shaft of moonlight and threw his head back, his mouth open.

Ryan got to his feet, his fingers clenching around the brim of the top hat. Spencer hovered beside him, anxious and fierce.

The barefoot boy's mouth opened wider, a soundless scream, and his whole back shivered and rippled. The material of his shirt melted and grew into fur and he arched backwards, his hands coming up to his head. Ryan could see furry ears pushing out against his fingers. Then he fell forwards, landing on his hands, and arched one more time, the fur spreading all over him faster than Ryan could see.

He hung his head, panting, his mouth open and his tongue out.

He was a dog.

A really, really big dog.

Ryan scrambled behind Spencer on the stairs.

The dog looked up at them. Its ears perked hopefully, and it padded a couple of steps nearer. Ryan made a scared breathless noise and took another step back. Spencer crossed his arms, glaring the dog down until it stopped, looking abashed.

Ryan really didn't like dogs.

Brendon glanced from the dog to Ryan and Spencer and back again. He chewed his lip. "He's a _dog_," he said, his voice pleading.

Spencer marched over and stood in front of Brendon, crossing his arms at him until Brendon sighed and followed him back to the stairs. Ryan edged in behind Brendon.

"Ryan doesn't like him," Spencer said flatly, as if that was explanation enough.

"But ..." Brendon said. Then he looked at Ryan and stopped. He looked back at the dog, which was sitting on its haunches now, watching them mournfully. (With _big teeth_, Ryan's mind supplied.)

_Sorry_, Brendon mouthed to the dog. Then he looked at Ryan and Spencer again and muttered, "But I still think you're being stupid."

Ryan didn't care if he was being stupid, as long as Spencer and Brendon stayed here.

The dog dropped onto its belly, letting its muzzle rest on its paws, and whined quietly. The moonlight made its fur look almost translucent, ruffled over bunched muscles. It could spring at any time, Ryan knew.

Anyone could say, 'I promise I won't hurt you.' Ryan moved closer to Brendon and Spencer and didn't trust it an inch.

It was a stalemate for most of the night. The dog didn't try to come any closer, and Ryan and Spencer and Brendon stayed on the stairs. Occasionally the dog would whuffle a sigh and lift its head, or whine, or scrape at the floor with its paw. Then Brendon would make a longing noise and go to stand up, and Ryan would catch the back of his coat, terrified.

Brendon always sat down again.

The moon travelled across the sky, showing up in window after window. Ryan hadn't thought the house even _had_ so many windows, but every time a new shaft of light fell on the dog, starker and more silvery now that it was properly dark, it whined and pushed its nose into its paws, looking tragic.

The stalemate probably would have gone on until the moon set again if Brendon hadn't spent the whole day working with mirrors and casting brilliant shafts of light all over the hall and out the windows.

There was a creak from the back of the house, out where the kitchen entrance was. Brendon never came in that way because the door was stuck fast and there was a tangled wilderness out back that used to be a kitchen garden, full of the carcasses of old wheelbarrows and the jagged spokes of bicycles.

It sounded as thought someone was forcing a window open, though.

The dog lifted its muzzle, ears pricking. Brendon really did get to his feet this time, Ryan catching hold of his sleeve as he stood too. Ryan and Spencer shared a worried look, and Spencer drifted a little way across the room, keeping to the shadows. He looked like another shadow, another dappled shaft of moonlight against the wall, if you weren't looking closely.

"... telling you," a muffled voice was saying. "There were lights earlier. Someone's using this place."

There was a curse and a crash, and then somebody laughed, low. "Even if they're using it, it doesn't mean there'll be anything here worth taking. I'm not crawling through that window after you."

There was an impatient groan, and another crash. "Who would use this place if they weren't doing something illicit? There'll be loot somewhere about, I swear."

Spencer drifted closer to the door. The dog growled low, its muzzle pulling back over its teeth. Ryan and Brendon shuffled closer together.

"Hey," one of the intruders said, sounding surprised. "It's not too bad in here. Maybe if there's nothing worth taking we can set up in here, use it as a base. It's not that isolated."

Ryan clenched his fists. Brendon was glancing between his invention and the door to the kitchens, looking grim and determined. "We won't let them," he whispered to Ryan.

The kitchen door pushed open. For a second a dark hooded figure was framed in it. Ryan saw Spencer tensing, ready to do – something. Ryan couldn't imagine what he was going to do. He didn't have to find out, because the dog leapt to its feet and threw itself towards the figure in the doorway, a snarl ripping out of its throat. Spencer melted back towards the wall. The intruder let out a yell, stumbling backwards into somebody else and making them both crash to the ground.

The dog snarled again, darting forward and making one of the intruders yelp in pain.

There were more crashing noises. "Good dog!" one of the intruders shouted. "Down! Down, good dog!"

The dog shook its muzzle, spittle flying and teeth bared.

There was a scrambling scuffle and the creak of the window once more. "Forget about 'Good dog,' you imbecile!" the other voice shouted. "Get _out_ here."

The dog barked, full throated and rough. Then it sat down with a satisfied air as the window banged once more. Ryan could hear the faint thud of footsteps on the grass outside, mixed with curses as the intruders tripped over bicycle spokes. Then there was another faint scrambling noise as they threw themselves over the tall spiked fence. Then nothing.

The dog turned to look at them. It wagged its tail a bit.

Ryan stared at the huge teeth it had been baring a second ago.

"Ryan," Brendon said. "Ryan, he _saved_ us."

"Yeah," Ryan said, his throat dry. He fiddled with the brim of his hat. The dog whined and thumped the floor with its paw.

Ryan gave in. He stepped down onto the floor, his legs shaky, and walked towards the dog. It wagged its tail again. Ryan put out a hesitant hand and scritched it behind the ears. The dog instantly flopped onto its stomach, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

Brendon had bounced over to Spencer, chivvying at him to make sure that he came and met the dog too. Spencer's mouth twitched a bit as he watched Ryan, crouching awkwardly to pet the dog, who was doing a good impression of a dog who'd never been petted before in its life. Spencer crouched down and regarded it.

"Thank you," he said, his voice serious. The dog cracked open an eye, then got up on its forepaws and snuffled at Spencer's ghostly hand. Spencer giggled as if he couldn't help it and said, "Tickles!"

Brendon dropped onto his knees, scrubbing his fingers through the dog's fur, and the dog turned and excitedly licked his hand.

"Maybe he's not that bad," Ryan conceded.

The dog rolled an eye at him and shifted so that its head was resting in Ryan's lap. Ryan sat down properly, his legs crossed, and ran his fingers over the dog's silky ears. Its head was really heavy.

"My name's Brendon," Brendon told the dog, bouncing in place a bit. "This is Ryan! He's a skeleton! And Spencer – Spencer's a ghost. I'm pretty ordinary, except that I'm an inventor."

The dog opened its eyes again and regarded him. Then it made a pained grimace and whined. Ryan backed away, alarmed, as its back arched and it scrabbled its claws against the floor. It was changing and stretching again, the way it had before. Ryan made himself keep still as the dog's body arched one last time, an impossible painful stretch, and then he flopped onto his back, the same barefoot, sleepy-eyed boy they'd met before.

He let his arms and legs flop out like a starfish on the floor. "Ugh," he mumbled.

Brendon edged forward, still on his knees.

"Hi?" he said. His eyes were wide and curious. "I was wondering if you would do that again."

The dog boy waved one hand for a moment, then opened his eyes. "Hey," he said, and he sounded sleepy too. "I'm sorry I didn't have time to explain before. I didn't mean to scare you." His eyes flicked to Ryan, and he looked sorry. He wasn't staring at Ryan like Ryan was strange, either.

"It's all right," Ryan said.

The boy smiled. He waggled his feet and arms a bit, then pulled himself upright and crossed his legs. "I'm Jonathan Walker," he said. "Jon." He looked from one to the other of them. "I just need somewhere to hide out during full moon. Is that ... would it be all right...?"

Brendon glanced at Ryan and Spencer first to check their expressions, then smiled broadly. "That sounds _brilliant_, Jon Walker. We're going to be the best team ever." He leaned back on his hands, kicking his feet against Jon's. "I'm going to be a famous inventor and buy this house when I grow up, and we can all live in it and be friends _forever_."

Jon glanced at Ryan and Spencer. Ryan shrugged, smiling at his hands a bit, and Spencer rolled his eyes and grinned. Jon smiled, slow and sort of awesome. "Yeah?" he said. "Yeah, we could do that."


End file.
